100 books like The Giver

Here’s my confession: I hated Chris McCandless by the time I finished this book. I hated his cockiness and lack of respect for the power of the wilderness.

But you know what I give him credit for? His ability to leave his life of privilege and the courage to go out into the world and forge his own destiny. He did what he thought was best for him despite the pushback he received from his friends and family.

I think I hated him so much because I wanted him to succeed, and he doomed himself through his own hubris. 

This book blew me away. He gets under the skin of ordinary folk like no other writer today. The story of a hostage situation that may or may not have happened made me laugh. It actually managed to make me cry–and I’m notoriously made of stone.

Through accessible writing, Backman showcases an unparalleled talent for exploring the complexities of human nature. His imperfect characters each carry their own sort of sorrow and flicker of hope. It’s one of those books I go back to. Again and again.

I read this book relatively recently, not at school or when I was in my twenties, but when I was in my late thirties. I had heard of the novel, and the concept of burning books was all-too familiar as I studied a module on Holocaust literature at university. However, the premise of Ray Bradbury’s novel, written in 1953, was so simple yet so powerful.

It echoes with our own reality today, as although books are not being burned, we are seeing the art of writing itself being "burned" or minimized by tools such as AI or social media. The virtual burning of honest reportage or poetry for opinionated views and algorithms is one symptom of today’s fast-paced society. 

There were some great quotes in Fahrenheit 451, too; the one that really stuck out was, “Everyone must leave something behind when he dies… A child or a book or a… show more.

This book is probably the quintessential book of mayhem, in my opinion.

Yep, it’s super dated, and the dialect can be difficult to get into, but I thought it was worth it, especially if you read the European version, which has an additional chapter the US publisher cut out. Abruptly it goes from a novel of unrepentant chaos to one of redemption.

From its first publication, this was my favorite book—a post-apocalyptic look at a world where women have lost their rights and are siloed into specific gender roles. I held my breath when the protagonist, Offred, finds ways to rebel, despite the risk of any visible state protest.

I love the complexity of the plot, where women sometimes help each other and other times join the persecution of women for self-survival. And I couldn’t read fast enough to see if Offred, riddled with fear yet finding her core of strength, finds a way out.

It’s a scary read, as it foretells of a totalitarian world, but I felt compassion for all the players as victims of this terrible world. And I knew from the start that Offred was a compelling protagonist whose deep compassion and strength would lead the way.

I keep returning to this and reading different things into it every time. As with Little Man, this is not the West Wing/Thick of It classic political thriller, but it is told from the perspective of an ordinary Joe. Unlike Little Man, where the political message is woven in seamlessly, 1984 is a full-on polemic written by a man with little time left in an attempt to shape opinion. It is, though, well-plotted and hangs together really well as a novel (barring the sections where Smith reads from the book).

Often read as an anti-communist allegory, I see it as so much more: sending us a warning against all who think only they are right, seeking to impose their will on others, be they autocrats like Putin, Trump, Xi Jinping, or Farage.

This book by Markus Zusak is frequently named one of the best WW2 books. I like it because it’s a tribute to the resilience of the human spirit and the importance of hope in dark times. It’s a haunting and beautifully written novel set in Nazi Germany.

Narrated by Death, the story follows Liesel, a young girl sent to live with a foster family. As she navigates a tumultuous world filled with fear and cruelty, Liesel finds comfort in books and words. I loved the premise of stealing forbidden books and sharing their stories with others. Through Liesel’s experiences, I explored the themes of love, loss, and the power of storytelling in the face of adversity.

For me, this is the ultimate science fiction story: the Victorian inventor whose contraption works so well that he can travel to witness the end of human society. I first saw the film, with the wonderful Rod Taylor, then loved the book—what a story!

The Morlocks terrified me as a child, but as I grew older, I realized there is much more complexity to these apparent antagonists. Who should we sympathize with more, the Eloi who have forgotten all human knowledge and leave their books crumbling as they frolic mindlessly, with no sense of social responsibility, or the resourceful Morlocks who have no choice but to live their lives in the shadows?

The hero’s devastation is palpable when he learns where mankind’s journey ultimately leads.

The unique underground setting hooked me from the start.

Ember is the last beacon of light in a darkened world, and now even its great lamps are at risk of going out. Friends Lina and Doon must find a way to keep them burning or face utter darkness and the end of civilization as they know it.

I loved the post-apocalyptic feel to this story, as well as all the mysteries and secrets lurking behind every dimly lit corner. 

Like a classic wine pairing, read Smith and Horwitz together and savor the full flavors. Black poet Smith visited Louisiana, New York and Texas, sites where the memory of slavery is a ghost haunting the present, whether in a prison or on Wall Street.

I was moved by his sensitive exploration of the same layered and scarred American terrain Horwitz traveled. Has Nothing changed?